Page 49 of Below Deck Billionaire
Reaching for the pile, he sorted through it, ostensibly deciding whether to give the couch another try or go straight for the floor but actually hyperaware of Tiffany shedding her clothes behind closed doors. Hyperaware of the thick thud of his pulse through his chest, belly and groin. Of the aching tautness of his cock just about busting through his trousers.
The door opened and he tensed as her, ‘All yours,’ reached him.
The bathroom,kalavaris. The bathroom. Not her.
Without even acknowledging her, Theo dropped whatever the hell he had in his hand and headed for the safety of a locked door, letting out a ragged breath as he stared at himself in the vanity mirror. He looked as wild as he felt and he knew he had to get himself under control before he went back out there.
Undressing briskly, he thought of the least sexy thing he knew – Ari’s goddamn never-ending spreadsheets – but by the time he was down to his boxer briefs, not even the most boring thing on earth had stood his cock down.
Reaching into his underwear, he gripped the rock-hard shaft, his breath tumbling out of him in a husky rush as he palmed himself, the exquisite torture of it hollowing out his chest. And for a moment, he was tempted to do the one thing he knew would see it gone.
But no. He was not going to do that.
Not with Tiffany a few metres away on the other side of the door. Like he was some horny boy who couldn’t control himself. For damn sure if he did, that load would come steaming out under significant pressure and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to suppress the resultant cry of release.
So… a cold shower it was.
And it helped. Even though the temptation to take himself in hand rode him hard, he resisted and the cold water soon did the trick. But still, he was glad for the dim-lighting when he strode out of the bathroom, and he snapped the lamp off as soon as he’d tossed everything off the couch and laid himself down.
Not that he could get comfortable. His neck immediately started to twinge and he shifted several times, trying to find a position where it wouldn’t hurt as much. He was about to give up and hit the floor when Tiffany’s voice drifted his way.
‘If you put a shirt on you can share the bed.’
Theo’s heart, which had been a hard drum in his chest, skipped a beat. Then another. Did she have any idea what kind of temptation that would be putting between them? He drew in an unsteady breath. ‘I never sleep with a shirt.’
He was only sleeping in briefs for her benefit.
‘Humour me,’ came her dry response. ‘Or stay there and rub your bloody neck again all day tomorrow.’
‘It’s fine,’ he muttered even as his neck twinged again.
He heard the sheets rustle as she sat up. ‘Theo. We’re both adults. We’ve shared a bed before and this one is huge. I promise not to leap on you.’
Theo hooted out a laugh at the dryness of her tone, pleased to have a release from the tension in his body. ‘And I have a dare to uphold.’
‘Right. So just get in already.’
17
An hour into her ridiculous suggestion, Tiffany was wide awake and looking down the barrel of another sleepless night. She’d made a huge mistake. The sound of his tossing and turning and concern for the state of his neck had temporarily overridden the fact she’d been getting hotter and hotter for him as the day had worn on. Every little touch and look cranked the heat between them until she was aflame with desire.
And she’d gone and invited temptation into her bed.
So now he was just there, beside her, close enough to reach if she wanted to stretch a little. And her entire body ached with the terrible, terrible torment of it. Heat had pooled low in her belly, turning everything wonderfully liquid and lax, except for a hot path of tingles that arrowed with military precision south to her clit and north to her nipples.
It turned out that it didn’t matter that she was an adult as she’d assured him, because her body was acting like a hormonal teenager. Every time she moved even slightly, she was excruciatingly aware of the slipperiness between her legs and her shirt rubbing against her aching breasts, taunting the stiff tips like it was industrial-grade sandpaper instead of soft, worn cotton.
Despite telling herself she would not, she found herself taking another sneak peek of him, the planes and angles of his classic profile intensified by the shadows of the night, the whiskery growth on his jaw darker. He smelled like soap and the laundry detergent they used below deck, and it was taking all her willpower not to wriggle closer and find out just how feral it would smell on his skin with the potency of his pheromones thrown into the mix.
‘Stop it.’
Tiffany started at the low growl, her pulse leaping as her head snapped back, her eyes on the ceiling again. She swallowed. ‘Stop what?’
‘Looking at me.’
‘I’m not… I wasn’t…’
It was a barefaced lie, but he didn’t call her on it as his mouth settled into a grim line. Her heart rate settled from its spike as she wondered how he’d even known she’d been looking considering his eyes hadn’t opened since he’d laid his head on the pillow.
